


Examples of Insane Sprint-Writing (Or, Untitled)

by Enmuse (Scifiroots)



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crack, Gen, M/M, Muses, Plot Bunnies - Freeform, Sprint Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scifiroots/pseuds/Enmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The results of rudderless sprint-writing back in October 2010. (This is being aired to the public to let you know that this kind of crazy? It's actually totally okay to do. You just keep on plowing on.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I don't know what to say"

"Well that makes two of us."

"Three, if we count the author."

"Which, obviously, we should."

"Especially since we're not really in-character."

"The blame has to go to someone, that's for sure."

"Lovely"

"Who says 'lovely' these days?"

"I think the question is who in our realm says lovely?"

"Jane does at times. But not like that."

"Do you have any idea who's talking right now?"

"Not in the slightest. I don't think the author knows either."

"Hey! Lady! You up there! Knock it off."

_Sorry, can't. Must type. It's NaNoWordSprint don't you understand?_

"What the hell is nanowordsprint?"

"Oh, hey Lisbon. We're trying to keep the crazy lady from writing about us."

"Who just said that?"

"Not sure." Rigsby said with a sigh. "Though I've just been identified."

"Right. This isn't weird. Not at all," Lisbon muttered.

"Why are people getting acknowledgements now?"

"And why didn't you?"

"Or you?"

Rigsby groaned, "What kind of game is this?"

"Can I leave, now?" Lisbon asked.

"Take me with you," Van Pelt pleaded.

"And now we're down to Jane and Cho," Lisbon commented.

"Does this mean that they've bled into each other?" Grace asked.

"That sounds gross," Rigsby said.

"We didn't bleed into each other."

"Do we sound alike?"

"On paper, yes," Van Pelt said. "Although I guess you shouldn't."

"Lady, you up there! We're not the same person."

_I know that, damn it! Stop bitching._

"Why are we poorly written in here?" Jane inquired with a tired sigh.

"Oh thank god," Lisbon muttered.

"Do I get a tag?" Cho asked crossly.

"Cho's cross, ha!" Rigsby pointed.

"Are we in grade school?"

"Apparently," Jane noted. "Lisbon, you did say that, right?"

"Wasn't that implied?" Lisbon asked.

Grace pointed out, "In a purely dialogue-based context, where no one's really in character anyway, no it's not clear."

"Thanks for pointing that out," Lisbon said dryly. "However, tell that to the author, not me."

Grace looked up. "Where is she, exactly?"

_Hello, this is the voice of God..._

"Jane pulled that once," Lisbon remarked.

"So did Wilson," Rigsby said.

"Who?"

Rigsby rolled his eyes. "Wilson, on House. When House was in the MRI. Can't remember why."

"You watch House?" Lisbon asked in surprise.

Wayne frowned. "I do? Wait. Would that be something I'd do?"

Grace shrugged. "Maybe we caught reruns sometimes. I don't know."

"We don't seem to know much of anything here," Jane commented.

"Which is particularly annoying," Cho muttered.

"Is this what happens when authors encounter writer's block yet pursist in just typing?" Lisbon asked.

_I suppose. It hasn't exactly manifested like this before. And with so many words. Why can't this story make more sense? Be more in character? More satisfying?_

"Well we can always make it more satisfying..."

"Jane!"

"Wow, stereo," Jane remarked. "And wow, innuendo stated in public. Do I need to specify who with?"

"Doesn't that mean Lisbon's the fifth wheel?" Grace asked.

"Orgy?" Jane proposed with a look of innocence.

"Oh god, please shut up," Cho said.

"Seconded," Lisbon begged, groaning into her hands.

Rigsby shouted, "Hey! Lady! Up there! Disembodied voice, would you shut off your alarm?"

_But what if I forget my medication?_

"You're talking to fictional characters who aren't acting in character and you're typing the entire dialogue," Jane pointed out logically.

_Well when you put it like that... I probably won't forget my meds, huh?_

"Yeah, I don't think so," Lisbon said.

_Couldn't find my fucking phone. It was still on the floor._

"If this is what comes out of writing on the floor, don't do it again," Cho said.

_I'm sitting on my chair while I'm writing this, FYI._

"Yeah, but this whole story started while you were on the floor," Van Pelt reminded.

_Oh Grace, how quickly you forget that the first 200 something words of this were started last night while I sat in this same chair._

"That sounded creepy," Rigsby commented.

"Agreed."

_Nice to hear you're all on the same page. (Har, har, har)_

_OMFG MY INTERNET IS UNPLUGGED! PANIC TIME!_

"Um, do you think we can escape while **it's** distracted?" Rigsby whispered.

_I can hear you, idiot._

"That's just not fair," Cho muttered.

"I'd suggest trying to shoot her except that she's not part of this world and is a disembodied voice and all."

"Fuck it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Oct. 10, 2010] As horrified as I am at the utter lack of progress on anything useful, I realize that it might be helpful and maybe even encouraging to post the craziness of the latest 30-minute sprint. Here are 7 different scenarios that my poor brain and the innocent characters of The Mentalist were just put through. This is being aired to the public to let you know that this kind of crazy? It's actually totally okay during NaNoWriMo. You just keep on plowing on.
> 
> You know how many words I wrote? 1,269 in thirty minutes. Yeah. Crazy.

Cho glanced down at his watch and resisted the urge to sigh. Another day passing slowly. Boring. For some reason everything had been boring as of late. That didn't make any sense. This was the CBI! They were men (and women) of action! Not superheroes, of course, but certainly they were out and about and busy. Busy even if it meant paperwork, but even that was non existent. Cho frowned at his desk and wondered how he had no paperwork. 

He glanced around, noticing that Van Pelt and Rigsby seemed to be fixated on something at their computers. They looked normal enough. He couldn't see Lisbon from his position and he debated standing up to go check on her. Debated standing up? Since when did he consciously think about making a movement? 

"You're thinking too loud."

Cho blinked and sat back in surprise when he found Jane sitting in front of him on the desk.

"What?"

"You," Jane emphasized by poking his finger at Cho's chest, "are thinking too loud."

"I'm thinking too much," Cho corrected with a frown. "Do you know what's going on?"

Jane looked around and apparently dismissed the oddity of Rigsby and Van Pelt continuing their typing. "Should something be going on?"

"You do know this is weird. Right?" Cho checked.

With a shrug and a grin, Jane waved off the worry. "What should it matter? Everyone's distracted..."

Cho remained blank faced. "So?"

Jane's grin widened into something predatory as he leaned in and tugged gently on Cho's tie. "So, let's take advantage of the situation."

Cho didn't even get the first word of "what the fuck?" out before Jane kissed him.

\---

"Oh my god, this is hell."

Rigsby wrapped an arm around Van Pelt's shoulders and told her bravely, "We'll get through this, I promise."

"I'm not sure I want to know what's going on," the redhead nearly cried against his shoulder. "It's been too horrible to watch. Just knock me out. My nightmares have to be better than this."

"Grace..." Rigsby sighed and hugged her close. 

\---

"Is no place safe?" Lisbon screamed.

Van Pelt glanced up from washing her hands and realized something was very wrong when her boss started shouting randomly – particularly in the ladies room. 

"Um... boss? Lisbon?" The red head stepped back to glance at the stall doors.

A flushing toilet preceded Lisbon's appearance. The CBI's face was flushed with rage as she stormed to the sinks and rigorously started washing her hands. "God damn it, where the hell are her muses? I'm sick of this intrusion!"

Van Pelt eyed the ceiling nervously and whispered, "Disembodied lady?"

Lisbon whirled around, sprinkling Van Pelt with water from her waving hands. "Of course! Who else would be hounding our every step? Changing the damn scene every few minutes? Invading the god damn bathroom! Please! Someone sacrifice muses and a pile of plot bunnies."

Van Pelt considered that for a long moment before admitting, "Boss, I don't know what a plot bunny is."

"Shit."

\---

"Oh, please, get out of here." Cho turned onto his stomach and covered his head with a pillow. 

Jane opened a bleary eye and glanced around the room. He closed his eye again and snorted softly. "She's back."

Cho's voice was muffled. "Yes."

The blond stretched overdramatically, making sure that the sheet dropped a little lower down his torso to flash some skin. He smirked when he realized she'd noticed.

Cho smacked Jane on the chest. "Show off," he accused, face still buried.

"Don't suffocate yourself," Jane chided. He rolled over so that he half blanketed Cho's naked body.

"Oh god, did you really have to draw attention to the nudity?"

"But that's so much fun! You never know when we might get the chance for more sex."

"Oh hell no." Cho struggled onto his side and started pushing at Jane's chest. "My bedroom. No intruders. I am not into threesomes."

Jane rolled onto his back as he started laughing. Irritated, Cho pushed himself up onto his elbows and glared at his lover. "What's wrong with you?" he asked crossly.

"I think you embarrassed her."

Cho grumbled something and crawled back under his pillow.

\---

Van Pelt muffled a sigh. "Really? Why? Why are you doing this?" She directed her futile question at the ceiling, ignoring the strange looks of the other coworkers.

Rigsby took a quick glance around before coming over to lean against her desk. "It's happening again?" he whispered.

Van Pelt glared balefully at him. "You don't need to keep your voice down, she's getting all of this down. It just won't stop."

Rigsby frowned up at the ceiling. "Didn't Lisbon have an idea?"

"Yeah, involving Muses and something called plot bunnies."

Rigsby looked at her with a look of total confusion, "Bunnies? What does that have to do with anything?"

"No freaking clue," Van Pelt said with a sigh.

Rigsby noticed a lull in the insanity and leaned in. "Quick! I think she's getting a sip of tea! RUN!"

\---

"I can see through you, see your true colors, see through the real you."

"What? Are you singing?"

"It's a popular song, don't you know it?"

"Yes. But that wasn't what I was asking. I said What? Are you singing? Not What are you singing?" 

"What's the difference?"

"Did you not hear the different inflection? I can't believe you were singing."

"Oh. Well, no one else will have to know, now do they?"

"Of course they—Oh. Right. No identifiers. Nice going."

"Why thank you."

"Don't take a bow, then everyone will know."

\---

"Holy crap how does someone with utter nonsense for 934 words and counting?"

"939 as that was typed."

"Seriously, we shouldn't encourage this," Lisbon said. "And there's a typo up there for 'nonsense.'" 

She and Van Pelt waited for the correction to be made not only for the first mention of "nonsense" but also for the second.

"Wow. This is just... pathetic."

"I don't see any end in sight," Lisbon said with a sigh.

Van Pelt grimaced. "Well, six minutes. But I know what you mean. We really need to figure out this plot bunny thing."

Jane walked onto the scene. "Plot bunnies are the (usually rabid) ideas that bite at authors' heels. I don't think that's the problem here. In this case, there are plenty of ideas running rampant. There doesn't seem to be one with a particularly rabid drive to bite, however. Or, rather, not one that bites and sinks its teeth in deep enough not to get shaken off."

They waited a moment as "rampant" was retyped to be the correct spelling.

"Then what is this?" Van Pelt asked.

"Limbo," an unfamiliar (or perhaps slightly familiar) blond said as he walked through the scene. No one had a chance to question his identity as he disappeared from view.

"Like things aren't already weird enough..." Lisbon muttered.

"As I was saying, I don't think a lack of plot vermin are the problem." Jane continued, "A distinct lack of muse involvement, however, could be the problem. Apparently Muses not only inspire and cultivate the plot bunnies, they also work to control in-characterness, which now happens to be a word. Additionally they maintain a writer's ability to keep typing or pushing the writing utensil along the page. It's a major job that usually more than one Muse must take on."

"So where the hell are these muses?" Lisbon demanded. "I won't stand for another intrusion on my privacy!"

Jane laughed. "That's the thing, my dear Teresa, these Muses and plot bunnies are working together to get into our heads."

"Oh fuck me," Lisbon cursed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I really don't know why head!Lisbon likes to curse so much. She's actually taken to doing that in the actual fics I'm working on, too. o.0


End file.
